


the consequences of naiads

by bookhobbit



Category: Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell - Susanna Clarke
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Miscommunication, Multi, Pining, Polyamory Negotiations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-22
Updated: 2016-04-22
Packaged: 2018-06-03 21:11:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6626419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookhobbit/pseuds/bookhobbit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After being ordered away, Childermass returns to help Strange and Norrell. Of course, since he is also an English magician, he is as stuck as the other two. From there follow Naiads (or rather one Naiad, but with enough trouble for several), the terrifying possibility of Eternal Sleep, goblin kingdoms, and a great deal of quarreling.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the consequences of naiads

**Author's Note:**

> I harnessed my post-reread moment to write this in three days after finishing the book, somehow. Here you go? Why is there so much of it, I don't know, I don't understand anything.
> 
> Also I forgot. I can't establish it in the fic, because none of the characters can possibly know it, but in the absence of Childermass, Segundus finds Vinculus and becomes the new Reader instead. Because I don't like loose ends flapping about.

Mr Norrell turned the corner into the long shadowy corridor that lead to the library, and opened his eyes. 

He begin to address Lucas, but what he saw stopt him cold.

Childermass was there. His hair was wild and his face was bloody; for a moment Mr Norrell had the quite irrational fear that this was not Childermass after all, but his ghost. He stood looking at him, his heart pounding from fear or perhaps something else he could not name.  He could no longer here Lucas or Lascelles and he supposed they were trapped on the other side of a wall that was not there.

"It's a good labyrinth," said Childermass at last, "It took me until just now to break it. But as soon as I did I found myself here. He must have plans."

"You came back," said Mr Norrell.

Childermass paused, and inclined his head. "Aye," he said, "And will you send me away again?"

Mr Norrell shook his head, silently.

They stood outside the library, looking at each other, until finally Mr Norrell heard Strange's voice. He was exclaiming in exasperation over a book.

He and Childermass each started, prompted into their own separate recollections as a result of this sound.

They looked at each other again, and then at the library. Quite without his conscious knowledge, Mr Norrell held his hand out to Childermass, and Childermass, seeming surprized at himself, took it.

They entered the library hand in hand.

 

Childermass had a great many ideas for summoning the Raven King. This did not come as a surprize to Mr Norrell, who had always half-suspected that Childermass was not so much his as on loan from a greater master, and had long ago resigned himself to it.

He was, however, curiously unhelpful as to the practical part of the proceedings. To be more precise he refused to fetch any water, even though this had once been part of his duties. 

When Strange and Norrell had discussed the need for running water to see visions in, both had looked at him. He gave them an unimpressed look and crossed his arms. 

"I am no longer a servant," he said. "You - " he nodded at Norrell - "dismissed me, and therefore renounced any claim to my service. And you - " he nodded at Strange - "had no claim in the first place. As neither of you have defeated the other, I do not think either of you have any thing to declare on that score."

The end of this little speech confused Mr Norrell, for of course Childermass had wisely neglected to inform him of his promise to Strange. But he took the point, and fetched the water. 

When Strange and Childermass appeared on the bank, he realized the situation had become somewhat more complicated than he had thought it was.

 

In a way, their efforts to raise the King were successful. When the great flurry of ravens passed, the library was changed, though the three magicians - for Mr Norrell must now admit they were indeed three, since Childermass was as trapped as himself and Strange - were very much the same. They were a little shaken, a little more scratched, but otherwise unaltered.

The only exception was Childermass.

"Your cheek," said Mr Norrell, and Childermass raised his hand to touch it.

For where there had been a deep and ugly knife-wound, there was now nothing but a faint, silvery scar.

 

The first order of business was to establish their position.

"We are stuck," said Mr Norrell, and this seemed to sum it up. The Darkness could not be taken into England, for there were now far too many English magicians. As Strange expressed it, they could not condemn innocents to their own fate, and besides that three magicians was already quite sufficient in half an English acre. Even if they did, technically, have four houses in which to live.

The houses had not been intentional. The three of them had decided to go into Faerie, where the chances of encountering English magicians would be slight. They had decided to take Hurtfew with them. After all, there was no one else to live in it. Mr Norrell's servants had probably all taken other positions, and Mr Norrell did not think even Childermass could induce them to come into the Darkness to resume their work. Mr Norrell was otherwise the sole occupant of the house, and so no one would miss it, especially since Childermass was now with them.

Strange and Norrell had also discussed the possibility of training Childermass further in magic before they continued with their plans.

"After all," Strange pointed out, "While I know you have some spells at your command, they cannot be what Mr Norrell and I have, and we would not like you to fall behind. Your help, your informed help, would be very useful. The theoretical dimensions - "

Childermass gave him a scornful look. "Mr Norrell," he said, "Am I not nearly as well-versed on magic law as you are?"

Mr Norrell was obliged to admit that Childermass was. 

"And have I not read a great many of your books of magic - more, in fact, than Mr Strange has done at present?"

This, too, neither of them could deny.

Childermass turned to Mr Strange. "And did you find my magic at all ineffective for the purposes I used it?"

Mr Strange said that he did not.

"In that case, there is no reason whatsoever to treat me as any thing other than an equal. I have told you both that I am no longer anyone's servant, and my imprisonment here is proof that I am a magician. If I find myself unable to keep up, I will ask for your assistance, with your kind permission." 

This last sentence was delivered in very biting tone. Both magicians took Childermass's point.

After that, they worked as a unit, which was fortunate, as even with the three of them it took many days to prepare the house for transportation. The Darkness let them move about in a most peculiar and stomach-turning fashion, but it took some convincing to make it bring the house along with them. Several times they appeared on the King's Roads by themselves, standing and blinking in the twilight as they all looked around around to see where the house had got to.

But finally, after much effort, they succeeded in moving everything within the Darkness. After that, it was the easiest thing in the world to do it again.

Unfortunately, Hurtfew Abbey seemed to have some sort of sympathy with its fellow magician-houses, and brought them along for the journey.

It was thus that they ended up with two large country houses and two fine town-houses; Hurtfew led, followed by Ashfair, and then the London houses, all in a row like ducklings following their mother, all nestled within the Darkness around them.

It was, as they agreed, most exasperating. But none of them could think of any way to send the houses back, so they left them as they were. It was no extra effort to have them.

Despite the staggering variety of rooms to chuse from, the three of them tended to congregate in Hurtfew. The books were there, and besides, none of them liked to be too far away from each other in the Darkness. Unconsciously, they all seemed to wish to be within screaming distance in case something should happen.

In the midst of the preparation with the houses, Strange began to grow melancholy. He gazed out of the window a great deal; he sighed often; he frequently looked down at a little mourning-ring on his finger. 

Eventually, he came to Childermass and Norrell and said that he must see his wife.

"I should think so," said Childermass. "No doubt she is awaiting word from you as well."

"But how?" said Mr Norrell. 

"I cannot imagine there will be enough English magicians in Italy to make it impossible for us to visit for a moment," said Strange. "If we chuse our place and time correctly, and if our visit is brief, I do not believe that it will be a problem. But we must go soon. I do not know how much longer she will stay abroad."

So as soon as they had finished their magic with the houses, and as soon as Strange - who was gazing intently into a silver basin, conjuring visions of Arabella - said the moment was correct, they transported themselves to Italy to wait.

Naturally Childermass and Mr Norrell supposed that Mr Strange would like to be alone with his wife, so they removed themselves to the shelter of a nearby churchyard, which was quite deserted.

There was silence between them. Mr Norrell had scarcely been alone with Childermass since they had found themselves in the Darkness. The planning and the house-moving had occupied so much of their time that they generally convened soon after waking and did not part until they slept. And Mr Norrell, thought, too, that Childermass might have been avoiding him.

It was very uncomfortable to stand in silence with Childermass, whom he had once found such restful company. The air seemed to hang heavy between them. They had not been quite right since the moment when Mr Norrell had sent Childermass away.

Mr Norrell thought that perhaps he ought to express his regret for that. Upon reflection, he had decided it was a poor choice. Mr Lascelles had shewn himself to be unreliable, at the last, whereas Childermass had come back.

And Strange was saying his good-byes to his wife; should Mr Norrell not, in the same spirit of reconciliation, make his apologies?

He thought he would begin with a remark.

"Mr Strange has been gone for some time," he said.

Childermass looked up, and shrugged. "I imagine they have many things to say to each other. Final goodbyes, last kisses, and so on."

"Oh!" said Mr Norrell, who had not considered _that_  detail before. "I suppose they do." 

He rocked back and forth a little on his toes and made the unfortunate choice of meeting Childermass's eyes.

Mr Norrell was no great reader of men, but he knew that talk of physical affection while the two of them were alone had prompted the same memory in both of them. It had been twenty years ago and no matter how hard he tried to forget it, it seemed to resurface quite without his control: the way Childermass's lips had felt against his, how he could not seem to stop kissing him.

It had been once - though not brief, Mr Norrell recalled with a little embarrassment - and they had agreed it would never happen again. It was for the best. That was certainly true. 

And yet every so often he would remember Childermass's hands cradling his face, the desperation leaping between them, amplified somehow by their touch. He would remember the way Childermass had smelled that day, how his hair had felt beneath Mr Norrell's hands. At these times he would feel an almost unconquerable longing, particularly when Childermass stood close.

He could, he realized, do it now. He could apologise, and kiss Childermass, who was no longer a servant but his own man. They would have time; Mr Norrell suspected Strange would not be back for a few moments yet.

But at the thought of Strange, he fixed his gaze upon his shoes. They were not alone, and now they never would be, not really. There was something about the thought of kissing Childermass when Strange was to be with them that felt curiously like a betrayal. And besides that, who was to say that Childermass still felt the same way? 

He could not even find the words he wanted to apologise, not now. They had all been stolen by the silence. So he subsided, somewhat unhappily, back to his own thoughts.

Mr Norrell did not see the look on Childermass's face as he turned away, which perhaps was for the best.

 

Childermass continued to avoid Mr Norrell's exclusive society. His manner when they were in company with Strange was just as usual - except perhaps a trifle less easy than it had been before, but then, Mr Norrell could not say if that was the effect of Eternal Darkness upon his spirits, or whether something else troubled him.

But as for the avoidance, it could not be mistaken. If Mr Norrell entered a room where Childermass sat alone, Childermass would wait a few minutes until whatever had been doing came to a natural conclusion - whether that was the chapter in his book, or his breakfast, or his experiment. Then, just as Mr Norrell was beginning to think of passing some remark, he would rise and leave, bidding Mr Norrell good day with a short shallow bow.

It was most aggravating.

A natural consequence of this was that Mr Norrell spent an increasing amount of time in Strange's company. When Childermass left to be alone, Mr Norrell would go and seek Strange and have some conversation with him.

It was very familiar; Mr Norrell often was reminded very fondly of long days spent doing magic with Strange as in the beginning of their partnership. There were some small inconveniences in this. For a long time, Mr Norrell had experienced a frequent pain in his chest and a flutter in his stomach when Strange did anything particularly charming. Mr Norrell knew quite well what the source of these queer sensations were, but he had determined to himself long ago that he would never think of them.

This was more difficult to do when he was alone with Strange so often, and after so long apart. Mr Norrell often had to work very hard to master himself, so as not to shew his feelings upon his face.

Strange himself seemed to have no objection to Mr Norrell's company. 

"After all," he said, when Mr Norrell expressed concern, "We may be famous for arguing with one another, but aside from Childermass, we are all we have. I do not like to be alone too much in this oppressive Perpetual Darkness, myself."

"Oh! No indeed," said Mr Norrell. 

"I wonder that Childermass can spend so much time by himself. Where does he go?"

"To his room, I suppose," said Mr Norrell. "He has spent a great deal of time riding out at all hours on missions to me, so perhaps he is used to the dark."

"Perhaps," said Strange. But he looked very thoughtful.

 

By and by, the three of them felt confident enough to venture into Faerie proper. Before they had lingered on the edges, casting and testing their spells of protection in order to be certain that no harm would come to them.

"I believe a map should be our first mission," said Strange. "No discourtesy to Dr Pale intended, but his is several hundred years old, and I expect the terrain is much changed."

"I think we ought to see to the Naiads," said Childermass. 

"We can do both," said Mr Norrell. "I am sure that if we begin to survey the terrain, we will soon stumble upon a brook or a spring of some sort which will allow us to see for ourselves whether our conjectures are correct."

They had for some weeks been taken up with references to Naiads in Goubert's Gatekeeper of Apollo, which they had consulted for its information on doorways and paths. They had been hoping to find something pertinent to breaking their curse, and there were a few promising things in it, but primarily they had been taken up with the Naiads.

The particular question which concerned the three magicians was how closely related Naiads were to River-spirits, which were known to exist in Faerie, and which indeed had at one time been an important part of English magic. England seemed to have no Naiads, at least not by that name, but Mr Norrell had related stories concerning spirits of small local bodies of water and of wells. They had therefore set themselves to find a Naid and ask her whether she had any sisters in England or knew any others who did.

"And if we cannot find one," remarked Strange, "That will surely be the end of it."

And so they began. After consulting several maps, they decided to venture into a large open meadow a few miles west of themselves, which had a most intriguing sketch of a spring in it. They steered Hurtfew, with only a little difficulty, in the direction they wanted. Childermass and Strange pushed, and Mr Norrell looked out the window and directed, making copious notes on the landscape.

"I daresay that Childermass could draw this," remarked Mr Norrell. 

"Oh, do you draw?" said Mr Strange, glancing over at Childermass.

Childermass remained silent.

"He does. He drew his infernal cards," said Mr Norrell absentmindedly, making a note in his book about a very odd tree to the left of them. He thought perhaps it might be worth investigating the possibility of Dryads, while they were about it.

"My cards have taught you more than you know," said Childermass, as Hurtfew glided past the tree.

"Cards?" said Mr Strange.

Childermass looked as though he very much regretted having the subject brought up. "The Cards of Marseilles," he said.

"Ah!" Strange leaned forward, his face alight with that particular expression Mr Norrell had noticed he took on when he had found some interesting new magic to think of. "Divination by magic is a most interesting field. Perhaps you would oblige me with a demonstration sometime."

"Perhaps," said Childermass, sounding not at all agreeable to the prospect.

Fortunately, they were then distracted by navigating and safely landing Hurtfew and all the other houses. Mr Norrell was obliged to give up his post and come over to help them, for setting down was much trickier than taking off.

At last, they landed in the centre of the meadow, with a bump that made Mr Norrell's teeth jar. Strange rubbed his hands. "That seemed to go very well," he said.

Childermass looked as though he might contradict Strange, but he simply shook his head. "Shall we, then?"

It was about half a mile to the spring on the map. They fortified themselves with provisions in case the journey might prove to be longer than expected, and Mr Norrell brought along a book or two in case they should need them.

In the fine spring weather, the walk was not arduous; Mr Norrell would perhaps have even enjoyed the touch of the sun, had Eternal Darkness not followed them every where. But there was no cold breeze, and no rain, and so the travelers made it to their destination in good time.

"It is right where it is supposed to be," said Mr Norrell approvingly.

"Perhaps the character of Faerie has not changed so much as all that," said Strange thoughtfully.

"It may make a difference that we are on the edges," said Childermass.

"Ah!" said Strange, nodding. "The magical distortion grows greater as one goes into Faerie. The magic will be strong as we progress, no doubt. We will have to take care."

Childermass raised an eyebrow. "I think it is quite strong enough now for us to be on our guard."

"I did not suggest that we should not," said Strange. "But as we enter Faerie-kingdoms - "

"And how do we know this is not a Faerie-kingdom?"

Strange frowned. "It is not on the map."

"You said yourself that the map was likely to be flawed."

Strange opened his mouth to retort, but at that moment they arrived at the spring, again forestalling what Mr Norrell suspected could have been a most disruptive quarrel.

"How do we summon a Naiad?" said Strange, sitting down on the bank.

"Well," said Mr Norrell, "In the tale of Hylas - "

Quite suddenly, there was a bubbling in the water. Strange scrambled backwards to prevent himself from being splashed, and Mr Norrell took several nervous steps in Childermass's direction.

A young woman emerged from the spring. She had very long dark hair and, though she rose only to her shoulders, did not seem to be dressed in the manner of a respectable lady. Indeed she did not seem to be dressed at all. Mr Norrell had read tales of mermaids and been told that they saw little need for clothing, so he supposed water-nymphs would not either. Out of courtesy, he averted his eyes.

The young woman said, "Do you come to offer me sacrifice?"

Strange reacted first. He stood up and bowed. "Greetings, madame," he said. "We, er, were not expecting to find you so quickly."

The young lady raised her eyebrows in a most sardonic fashion. "Indeed? Then why did you come to a sacred spring?"

"We were not entirely aware that it was sacred. That is to say... We have some questions for you." Strange bowed again. "If you will excuse me, I will discuss with my companions the suitable sacrifice."

Childermass, Strange, and Mr Norrell went into a sort of huddle on the riverbank.

"Well, we have the supplies," said Childermass.

Strange opened his pack and looked doubtfully inside. "Do you suppose she will accept some cheese and bread? I cannot imagine that she will want the water. She has plenty of it."

"It's better than nothing," said Childermass.

Mr Norrell cleared his throat. "I think there is a possibility that she will, er, fail to accept it and instead claim something else."

"What else?"

But at that moment they were interrupted by a splashing from the spring. The Naiad, it seemed, had grown weary of waiting, and was tapping her feet impatiently in and out of the water.

"Do you bring me tribute, or do you not?" she demanded. "I will blind all of you if you did not."

Strange glanced around at the other two and stepped forward. He set the bread and cheese on the riverbank. "We bring you this offering, madame - er, my lady - of the food from our home."

The naiad frowned. "It is very common, and has never been alive."

The three magicians looked at each other.

"I do not think I will accept it," she said. "There is something I would much rather have."

Mr Norrell muttered 'oh no' under his breath.

The Naiad swung her head and looked at Childermass. "You," she said. "You will stay with me and keep me company. It is very lonely here since the Christians ceased to come and I have no one to talk to. I like your face. Give me your heart, and I will answer all your questions."

There was a long, tense, uncomfortable silence. The Naiad stared unblinkingly at Childermass, and he stared back.

Finally he bowed and said "I beg your pardon, my lady, but my heart is not mine to give."

Mr Norrell started, blinked, and looked round. He thought perhaps that he knew what Childermass was talking about, and he did not know what to do. His heart pounded harder, though it was already fast with the fear of the Naiad. He took another step backward.

The Naiad's face grew as cold and still as a winter well. "Then I shall put you to eternal sleep," she said, "And you will stay with me forever." And she reached out and took him by the neck, and before Norrell or Strange could do any thing, she was gone.

"Mr Norrell," said Strange, with great presence of mind, "Run."

"What?" said Mr Norrell.

Speaking very fast, Strange said, "If you run, the spell will catch us up and take us outside her range before Childermass can drown. I will stay and attempt to bring him out before then. Go!"

Mr Norrell was running before the last word. He grew out of breath very quickly, but he persisted until finally Strange and Childermass were deposited beside him, both of them very wet and Childermass scarcely breathing.

"I knew we should have learned from Hylas," gasped Mr Norrell. "What happened?"

"I had managed to find his hand, and I had wrested him out of the grip of the Naiad, which is fortunate, as I am not sure the spell would not have brought her along as well."

"You did not mention that," said Mr Norrell with a hint of reproof.

"I did not think of that." Strange knelt down beside Childermass and sat him upright and pounded on his chest and did all the things that one was supposed to do with a drowning man. Mr Norrell crouched down beside them both and, without thinking, took hold of Childermass's hand.

Strange glanced at it, and nodded. "Squeeze if you can hear us," he said.

Mr Norrell felt a faint squeeze on his hand. "He is conscious," he said, with great relief.

But he was coughing horribly, water spluttering out of his mouth still. He seemed only just awake, and his grip on Mr Norrell's hand was weak.

"We had better get him back to the house," said Strange. "Can you help me support him? I believe it would be faster than one of us going ahead."

Mr Norrell nodded and took ahold of one of Childermass's arms. 

It was somewhat awkward, not least because of the significant height difference between Mr Norrell and both Strange and Childermass. Several times they stumbled and nearly fell, but they always managed to stagger on again.

"It was very clever of you to use the spell to our advantage," said Mr Norrell. "I would not have thought of it. Certainly not so quickly."

The corner of Strange's mouth quirked up. "But I daresay you would have thought of the risks of bringing along any thing you happened to be touching."

"Well, perhaps," said Mr Norrell.

At last they managed to get Childermass into Hurtfew and to his bed. 

"Someone ought to take him out of his wet things," said Mr Strange. "That remark of hers about Eternal Sleep seems to bear watching. I do not know if it was literal or figurative.I believe he may be under a slight curse, and may be quite weak. "

"Curse!" said Mr Norrell.

"I am sure it is nothing serious, but..."

Mr Norrell hesitated. "I will stay with him. Go and see to yourself and to our defenses, please, Mr Strange. I will join you when I am sure of his safety."

Strange paused in the doorway for a moment. His face was very odd, almost wistful; Mr Norrell could not imagine why he looked as if he was longing for something he would never have.

Then he was gone.

Mr Norrell stood for a moment. "Childermass?" he said very softly. "Are you awake?"

There was no sound from the bed but breathing, slightly raspy but even.

Mr Norrell deliberated for a moment. He felt deeply uncomfortable with the idea of taking off Childermass's clothes, but if he was left in his soaking wet ones, he might become ill. He was in no state to do it himself currently, for all Mr Norrell knew, he would sleep for the next eternity. The options were thus either that Strange or that Mr Norrell himself must undress Childermass.

Mr Norrell did not think Childermass would like Strange to be the one to do it.

Reluctantly, he went and found a clean nightshirt in Childermass's chest of drawers. Every thing in Childermass's little attic room was more or less the same as it had always been, he observed. For a brief time, he had tried one of the guest rooms, but he had brought himself back up here within a week. Mr Norrell supposed he had grown fond of it.

Having acquired the nightshirt, he took himself over to Childermass himself and examined him.

The best thing to do, he decided, would be to take the shirt off, put the other shirt on, and then remove all of the other things in as delicate a way as possible.

With a sigh, Mr Norrell went over to the bed and began untying Childermass's cravat. It was tightly-knotted, perhaps because of the water and the pulling about, and it took him some time to get it off. After that, the coat and the waist-coat buttons were easier, although clumsy, because it was difficult to induce Childermass to move. 

This left Childermass in his shirtsleeves. Mr Norrell tried not to look very closely at the shape of him through the fabric. He tried exceptionally hard not to picture himself putting his arms around Childermass and feeling the warm, solid weight of him, reassuringly alive and relatively unharmed.

He told himself sternly that this was a serious situation, that Childermass might be cursed, and that he must not let his thoughts stray.

It was with no small amount of trepidation that Mr Norrell began to unbutton the yoke of Childermass's shirt. When it was undone he paused before attempting to wrest the shirt from his owner.

And Childermass opened his eyes.

"Sir?" he mumbled, rather groggily.

Mr Norrell held his breath.

"What are you doing?" said Childermass.

"Changing you into a nightshirt. You will be ill otherwise and I did not think you would like Mr Strange to undertake it and there is no one else."

Childermass blinked slowly. "No," he said, "No one else."

"Shall I continue?"

Childermass nodded, and then was back asleep.

Mr Norrell took a moment to steady his trembling hands and calm his breathing. Then he stripped Childermass's shirt off.

It was very difficult not to be touched by the sight of him laying there thin and very vulnerable without his many layers of clothing. But Mr Norrell was resolute, and so he did not take notice of the shape of Childermass's collarbones, or of the slope of his shoulders. He did not notice the jutting curve of his now-sleeveless wrists, or the dip of his waist. He did not notice the many scars on Childermass's torso, and he especially did not notice the small, jagged circular one where his arm met his chest.

He only pulled on the nightshirt.

Taking shoes and stockings and breeches off was less of an ordeal afterward. He had the cover of the nightshirt to avoid revealing anything too terribly improper, although it did occur to him halfway through that he had never before seen Childermass bare-legged. He squashed the thought and finished his task.

Then he left Childermass and went down to Mr Strange.

 

Childermass slept for two days. It seemed as though the Naiad had indeed cursed him, although he stirred every so often to eat or drink, which gave both magicians hope that he would not be permanently harmed.

"An eternal sleep would be deeper," said Mr Norrell, "I am certain of it. He would not rouse himself for any thing."

"I am sure he will be fine," said Strange, patting him on the hand. Despite his worry, the contact sent a shiver up Mr Norrell's spine, as it generally did.

It was very uncomfortable.

Strange and Mr Norrell took turns bringing food to Childermass and seeing that he had not died since they had last spoken to him. Neither of them were very good at seeing to an invalid, but then, Childermass was not a very good invalid. When he woke for more than a few moments, he asked for books, and then fell asleep reading them.

Mr Norrell wished very much to speak to him about what he had said to the Naiad, but he was never awake long enough for such a serious conversation.  

At the end of the third day he had gone back to sleep Mr Norrell and Strange were alone again. Mr Norrell was very concerned about Childermass's continued drowsiness.

"Supposing he never shakes it off entirely?" he said. "Supposing he is ill for the rest of the hundred years? I do not see what we will do if we have to take journeys and he cannot stay awake for them. We cannot be forever towing him around behind us."

Strange sat next to him and patted his arm comfortingly. "I am sure it will not come to that. Every day he is awake for a little longer."

Mr Norrell sighed, and wrapped his arms about himself. "But what if it does?" he said, half to himself. "What shall I do?"

Strange seemed to hesitate, and then he moved closer to lay his hands over Mr Norrell's."We will work something out," he said gently.

Mr Norrell looked up, and Strange's face was very close, closer than it had been in a long time, and he was struck with a terrible, terrible temptation to lean forward and kiss him.

It would be a great comfort. It was something he had wanted to do for years. And was there a reason not to? There was Childermass, but Mr Norrell could only suppose that Childermass no longer wished to see him. He had been avoiding his society, after all. And Strange was here, and behaving exactly as he always had, and Mr Norrell wished very much for something good to happen.

Both of them were entirely still. Strange whispered, "Sir - "

Mr Norrell, quite without his own conscious control, made a very small noise. He thought it was something like a sigh. It was composed of equal parts loneliness and longing and fear. 

Strange brought his hands up to Norrell's face and cradled it carefully.

Mr Norrell said, "Please..."

And then - 

Another long moment, full of suspense, with Mr Norrell scarcely breathing - 

and Strange broke away and put his hands down. He let out his breath in a rush.

"I cannot do this," he said. "I cannot ask you to betray your own heart, no matter my own desires."

"My - heart?" said Mr Norrell, both hurt and puzzled. "What has my heart to do with anything?"

"Please, sir, do me the credit of assuming I have noticed the obvious. I realize I had not done so before a few days ago, but allowances must be made for the nature of my assumptions about your character."

"My character?" said Mr Norrell. He felt so entirely lost and confused that he could do nothing other than echo Strange's words back to him.

Strange took a deep breath and stood up, pacing restlessly. "I thought she must be imagining it - it is unrespectable, sir. But of course it is not so bad now, is it? You are no longer his master, and there is no one to see."

"What?" said Mr Norrell.

Strange sat down in another chair and put his hands over his face. "Arabella told me, once, that she thought you and Childermass were....together. I thought it could not be so, but I see now how very wrong I was. I see how you are with him, sir, and you must forgive me. It was wrong of me to offer you temptation to betray him, particularly when he is ill. No - " here he raised against Mr Norrell's spluttering objections - "You need not justify yourself to me, sir. I understand how it is when one is lonely - one's judgement is compromised - I lay the blame entirely at my own feet. I would never come between yourself and a longtime companion. I respect you both far too much."

Gradually Mr Norrell came to understand that Strange was under the impression he and Childermass had some lasting romantic connexion. But before Mr Norrell could explain that this was not so, and for aught he knew never would be, Strange was gone.

 

Childermass woke the next day just as usual and came down to the library early. Strange was still asleep, or perhaps he was avoiding Mr Norrell's company after the misunderstanding last night. 

Mr Norrell looked up sharply when he saw Childermass come in, and then closed his book. "Good morning," he said, and his heart was full of a strange joy. Childermass looked just like himself, save that he was perhaps a little more subdued than usual. But, Mr Norrell thought, that was only to be expected after shaking off a curse.

"Good morning," said Childermass.

"How long have you been awake?"

"Since last night - or I suppose it was night by the number of hours I had slept. I woke and then slept again as normal, as if I had not been sleeping at all."

"Last night? You should have come to the library to say that you were all right. Mr Strange and I have been worrying a very great deal."

"You seemed busy," said Childermass.

"We were looking for a cure for you," said Mr Norrell with a hint of reproof. "Our business would have been concluded had we known you were well."

There was a long silence. Childermass seemed to be holding something back, but for the life of him he did not know what it was.

"Do you remember much about the period of your enchantment?" asked Mr Norrell.

"You put me into a nightshirt," said Childermass.

"Yes."

"I thought I had dreamt it. You have never been the nursing sort."

"I...there was no one else," said Mr Norrell. "I had to."

Childermass nodded stiffly. 

"What you said to the Naiad, about your heart - " began Mr Norrell.

Childermass's face shut off. "How do you know I was telling the truth, sir?" he said. "That could have been a falsehood to make her let me go."

"It could have been," Mr Norrell allowed. "But I thought perhaps - that is to say I wondered if - "

"If it was you?"

Their eyes met. Mr Norrell thought that at last, something would go right. He would finally be able to speak and he would apologise to Childermass for not trusting him in the first place. If Childermass would only speak first.

But Childermass looked away.

"Whatever may have been true," he said softly, "I never go where I am not wanted, and you have made it amply clear that nothing is wanted from me." He rose and walked out of the room, his every movement sharp and jagged.

And once again Mr Norrell was left to his own devices, bewildered and hurt, with words half-formed in his mouth.

 

Things were very miserable after that for all of them. Strange would not be alone with Mr Norrell. Mr Norrell supposed from the look of tragic nobility upon his face whenever he slipped out of the room, that he thought it would be too difficult for both of them. Unfortunately, this meant that Mr Norrell never got the chance to correct his mistaken ideas. He certainly did not want to do it in front of Childermass.

Childermass avoided both of their company as much as possible. When he spoke to Strange, it was often snappishly. When he spoke to Mr Norrell, it was with a cool reserve that seemed to pierce something inside of him and tear it into bits.

Strange's temper would not allow insults to himself to go unrevenged, and thus there were a great many arguments between them during which Mr Norrell would generally slip away.

A particularly bitter one concerned the nature of the Raven King, and occurred one afternoon when they were all gathered and trying to find out more about the Chaos of Ravens. Strange argued that the Raven King and his legacy were the possession of all England, and Childermass, like any Northerner, disagreed vehemently.

"He is not," he said. "Certainly his magic extends throughout England, but it was the North that he ruled and the North that he provided for."

"Ah, but if his magic extends throughout England, if his ancient contracts extend throughout England, then how can you say he is not all Englishmen's heritage?"

"The South has its own king."

"But he is a king in the political sense. The Raven King is a King of magic." Strange gestured at the books around him.

"And a political king. What did he have seneschals for if not? He is our king as much as King George is yours."

"But all of English magicians are the Raven King's subjects."

"But not in the same way."

In the face of this discord, Mr Norrell went to his room to be alone again. Not that he spent much time any other way now. He retreated to his room with armfuls of books and made notes on the history of Faerie. At least, he thought, he could do something useful.

Finally, Mr Norrell decided he could no longer bear to be shunned by both his companions. He had grown sick and tired of people slipping out of rooms when he entered them; he felt as though he had some sort of unspeakable disease. He resolved to confront _some one_ , whoever first came to hand, as soon as he had the courage to do it. 

One morning he entered the drawing-room of Hurtfew Abbey and found Childermass seated in a chair. He sat down opposite him at a little table and began to read a book which he had brought from the library.

Childermass glanced at him and then, after a moment, he began to stretch, as though he had just been roused. He stood up.

"No," said Mr Norrell. He felt very nervous, but this was Childermass, after all. Childermass had always been the person in whom he had confided, and it would be easier this way than with Strange. 

Childermass looked at him as if he did not know what he meant, and made as if to move.

"Please," said Mr Norrell, taking Childermass's arm. The grip was not tight, and in any case Childermass was much stronger and could have shaken off Mr Norrell quite easily. But he did not. Instead he stared down at Mr Norrell's hand on his arm with a most peculiar expression on his face. 

They had walked into the Darkness holding hands. Mr Norrell was suddenly very aware of the warmth of Childermass's arm beneath his sleeve. He removed his hand very carefully and put it back into his lap with the other.

"You have been avoiding me," he said. 

"Have I," said Childermass. "I did not realize."

This Mr Norrell was almost certain was a lie. Childermass knew his own mind very well and most of what he did was for one purpose or another.  

"I find it very unpleasant," said Mr Norrell. "We spent a great deal of time together alone, and I do not see why things should be any different now. Indeed, we have only the three of us for company, so I should think we had better get used to being alone with each other."

Childermass sighed and sat down, looking quite defeated. There seemed to be some great pain below the surface of him, only just near enough that Mr Norrell could see its shadow. "That was then," he said. "This is now."

"And what is different about now?" 

"You sent me away," said Childermass, and the pain bloomed visibly onto his face. This was a rare occurrence  - all Childermass's feelings were generally well-hidden, so that Mr Norrell had to look very carefully to see them - and perhaps that was what prompted Mr Norrell to action. All the words that he had been longing to say, and unable to find, came rushing out.

He said, "I know, and if you cannot forgive me for that, I - I understand, I suppose, but believe me when I say I am sorry. I am. And I am sorry beyond words that you were trapped here, with the two of us - "

Childermass shook his head. "I wouldn't care, but for him."

This was a little puzzling to Mr Norrell. "I know you find Mr Strange's character occasionally exasperating, but I was under the impression you offered him your services - against me, should I defeat him." 

He could not stop a hint of reproach from creeping into this sentence, but Childermass did not acknowledge it, nor did he bother to deny it. "That is one thing," he said, "But standing by and watching you two - I know what you feel for him and what he feels for you." 

Mr Norrell said nothing, and Childermass made a sound of utter exasperation.

"I have no idea," he said, "Why I bother any more. I have no idea why I cannot simply - " He stopt.

"Simply what?"

"Stop caring for you," said Childermass, and his voice was rougher than his usual wont. "And you made me say it. No thank you for that."

"Oh," said Norrell. He blinked rapidly. "I… I never stopt."

"Never stopt what?"

"Feeling the same way. All that time - I know you know how I feel about Mr Strange, but that does not change how I feel about you." Norrell closed his eyes tightly, in hopes that this would make it easier to confess his feelings. "I didn't want to say it either. Not after - I suppose we are both quite hopeless."

"Yes," said Childermass. "That we are. Pity you didn't tell me till it was too late."

"Why?" said Norrell. "I am not questioning your judgement. If you no longer want me - "

Childermass's expression returned to something of its usual sardonic character. "I expect Mr Strange would have something to say about that," he said.

"Why?" said Mr Norrell, growing still more puzzled. "I know you know that I...have a great fondness for him, but I do not see what business of his my relationship with you is." He added, bitterly, " _He_  has certainly made it clear enough that he has no desire for me." 

"Is that how you interpret a kiss?" said Childermass, raising an eyebrow. "That certainly would explain a good deal."

Mr Norrell's mouth opened and closed for several seconds. "You saw," he said.

"I did."

"Well, clearly you did not see enough. He nearly kissed me, and then refused me." 

Childermass looked as puzzled as Mr Norrell had moment a moment ago. "On what grounds? I could have sworn the affection is mutual by now."

Mr Norrell felt himself beginning to turn red, both because of Childermass's words and because of the situation. He twisted his hands together nervously and said, "He seems to be under the impression that I, er, am entangled with you."

Childermass gave him a long look. "And you did not disabuse him of the notion?"

"He did not give me the chance." Mr Norrell wrung his hands. "And then you were angry with me and he was avoiding me too and I did not know what to do. So, you see, here I am."

The corner of Childermass's mouth turned up. Mr Norrell thought it was something like relief. He said, "I'm sorry, sir. I've done you a disservice. It is your business whom you care for, and I am not angry at you for loving him. It is only that it seemed like after he came you did not need me any more."

"I will always need you," said Norrell. "I know that now. I was so afraid after you left, and so afraid when I thought you were going to sleep forever."

Childermass looked at him, and took a long breath. "Give me time," he said quietly. "Give me time."

 

So Mr Norrell did. 

It was not really very difficult. He was still adjusting to the new idea that he and Childermass had a chance for something. For a very long time, he had refused to think of it. He had closed that part of his mind and his heart off with the rest of his quiet little hopes for future companionship. It had seemed entirely unattainable, and therefore not worth wasting time in longing for.

But now...

Now, for the moment, they could at least sit together in comfort and ease. Childermass no longer left when Mr Norrell came into a room; indeed he sometimes joined him to eat breakfast or to study in the library. Gradually, by degrees, they began to relax into something like what they had once had. 

Once, when Mr Norrell was reading a book opposite Childermass, their feet had bumped under the table and Childermass had not pulled away.

The next time they sat together, Childermass leaned over a little against Mr Norrell.

Mr Norrell held his breath for a moment, before realizing there was no need. After a few minutes of thought he put his arm around Childermass's waist and rested his head against his shoulder.

They sat like that, comfortably together, for nearly an hour before they decided to go and have some food.

From utter despair, Mr Norrell had been brought up to a life full of small and wonderful new pleasures. Now, with Childermass's permission, he could sit quietly and hold his hand. He could lean against him, if he liked, without fear of reprisal. He did not think there could be anything more delightful, more enjoyable, than these simple things.

There was one thing. Mr Norrell had thought about it; in fact he had been thinking about it ever since that day in the churchyard. But he had not really hoped to see it come to fruition.

But then one evening when they were preparing to go to bed after a long day of map-drawing, he said good-night to Childermass, and Childermass turned.

"I think we've reached the stage where you might be permitted to give me a good-night kiss," he said dryly.

Mr Norrell drew in his breath sharply. He wanted to back away from Childermass, or some tiny fearful part of him did, but a much greater part wanted to close the gap between them. He stepped in, and carefully put his hands against Childermass's shoulders. He was obliged to go up on his toes a little to bring their faces close enough.

Childermass did his part by bending, and he put his hands on Mr Norrell's waist to steady him.

"Twenty years I've been waiting for this," he murmured. 

"You could have done it earlier," said Norrell quietly. "I would have gone along. You know I trust you."

Childermass's face went blank for a moment, as if he was struggling to conceal some great emotion. Then he leaned in and kissed Norrell.

It was somewhat overwhelming. Childermass's hands were very gentle on waist, calloused a little in places. But the prevailing sensation was one of warmth. He could smell the comforting safe smell of Childermassness magnified by the nearness of him. He sighed. In truth, it felt like this: coming home after a very long time absent, and wondering why you ever left. It was so very familiar; why had they ever agreed not to do this again? Why had they not been doing this every day since the first time? Right at this moment he could not remember.

Childermass pulled back and kissed his forehead. "Goodnight," he said.

Mr Norrell remembered very little about the walk back to his room.

There was very little else he could have asked for. The only dim spot in the brightness of the present was Strange.

Early in their exploration, he had walked in on the two of them holding hands, frozen, and then bowed and walked back out again. Now, like Childermass once had, he was inclined to avoid them both. He could not do so entirely - they had a great deal of studying to do - but he would come only in the hours they had nominally designated as daytime, and did not stay till evening.

This caused Mr Norrell a good deal of pain. Strange was, he hoped, his friend now, and he did not like to think that another wall should grow up between them over something so innocuous. 

But he did not know what to do.

To make matters worse there was another source of pain. Mr Norrell had supposed that his feelings for Childermass would make his ones for Strange disappear, or at least weaken. But this was not in the least the case.

He had, since the incident in the library, become very sensitive to the rare occasions that Strange and he were alone, even for a few moments. His heartbeat and his breath would quicken and he would become very flustered. He supposed that was why Strange avoided the possibility.

But even when Childermass was in the room, Mr Norrell would sometimes become distracted by Strange. The sound of his voice, his smile, the particular feeling of his magic, even his rarely-caught scent, all of these things were painfully familiar and painfully dear to Mr Norrell.

He could not think of what to do.

Finally he thought that he ought to talk to Childermass about it. It had worked last time, after all.

He began, tentatively, "Perhaps you've noticed that Mr Strange has not been spending very much time in my company."

Childermass tilted his head thoughtfully. "I had thought it was me he was avoiding."

"I do not believe so. He flees whenever I enter a room."

This got a wry smile out of Childermass. "As I was doing up until a month or so ago."

"Well, yes," Mr Norrell admitted, "Very like."

"Is this because of the incident I was witness to?"

"I am very much afraid it is. He avoids me because he thinks it will be easier for both of us if we avoid Temptation, I think." Mr Norrell twisted his hands together.

Childermass regarded him. "And do you feel tempted?"

Mr Norrell opened his mouth and closed it a few times. In truth he was, but he did not know how to say this without giving Childermass great offense. He bit his finger ends and tried very hard to think of something to say.

"I will take that as a yes," said Childermass. But he did not sound upset. Mr Norrell looked up at him, and found no anger that he could detect in his face.

But then, Childermass was often very guarded. Perhaps he was angry and he was disguising it.

Mr Norrell gave a deep sigh. "I sometimes am," he admitted, with a great deal of anxiety.

Childermass nodded. "I thought as much."

"I am sorry," said Mr Norrell. "I thought it would go away when you and I took up together. I thought that would chase it out and I would stop being troubled by it."

"But it did not."

Mr Norrell shook his head. "I tried to deny it. Believe me I tried. I did my utmost to exorcise it, just as I tried to exorcise what I felt for you, all those years ago. But it was no more successful." Mr Norrell clenched his hands into fists, trying to master himself without much success. "You must think that there is something wrong with me. To be - to feel this way about two people."

"No," said Childermass."You have made many mistakes, but this is not one. It is no sin to care for someone. He was good for you, and that is why I tried to encourage it."

Mr Norrell nodded. He did not know what else to say. His secret was out, and now he felt a little better, though he was still full of shame.

Childermass gave a little twist of a smile. "I always knew I was destined to share you with him," he said. "From the moment I first saw you together."

"I never meant to hurt you," said Mr Norrell to the floor in a small and miserable voice. "Not with this. Not ever, really."

"What is done is done, and you are trying to make up for it," said Childermass. "I think you had better go to him, and soon."

Mr Norrell looked up. "Go to him?"

"Yes. If you keep him waiting, I suspect it will only grow more difficult."

"What will?"

"Telling him of your feelings."

Mr Norrell blinked his small eyes rapidly. "But why on earth should I do that?"

"In the interest of honesty. Besides, you will never get yourselves straightened out of if you do not speak of your feelings."

"But - " Mr Norrell looked down at the floor again and bit the ends of his fingers. "I cannot promise, that if I tell him of how I feel, and if my confession is reciprocated - "

"It will be. He has no more subtlety than you do."

Mr Norrell glared a little at Childermass, who looked far too amused for the gravity of the situation. He continued, "I cannot promise that nothing will happen, John."

"I should hope nothing wouldn't happen," said Childermass. "That seems to me to make the entire idea quite futile."

"John!" said Mr Norrell. "I do not think you quite take my meaning. I could not promise that I would be master enough of myself not to - to embrace him, or to kiss him - "

"Which you are at liberty to do if you like." 

"But - but - " Mr Norrell paused for a moment to collect himself so that he could stop gaping like a beached fish. "But you said earlier - that is you implied that the thought of us - ah, gave you great pain."

Childermass shrugged. "That was quite a different circumstance. I had just recently been hurt very badly by you - " Mr Norrell winced but said nothing - "And I felt sure that whatever I wanted from you, it could never be so. I had felt that for twenty years. But now I have everything I want, and I do not begrudge you any happiness you can find."

This was all said without very much emotion, but as he spoke he leaned forward and caught Mr Norrell's hand and looked into his eyes.

Mr Norrell took a deep, shaky breath. "I do not know how to express..."

Childermass shook his head. "Do it soon. Remember that. I know you and I know you will put it off and put it off until you have talked yourself out of it entirely. Do not allow that to happen."

Mr Norrell half frowned and half smiled, for though this description was most unflattering, it was pleasing to be known. Besides, it was difficult even for him to be upset in the circumstances.

"I will not," he said.

 

Mr Norrell, determined not to waste Childermass's advice, took the next possible opportunity speak to Strange. This meant rather awkwardly waylaying him at the breakfast table the next morning, where he was sitting and groggily drinking coffee.

Mr Norrell had breakfasted and drunk his cocoa some hours earlier, but Childermass had stuck his head in the library and said "He's here" when Strange had emerged. Having a co-conspirator, Mr Norrell was finding, was very useful.

He hurried into the breakfast-room and sat down at the table.

Strange blinked sleepily at him; he did not yet seem to be awake enough to have replaced his guarded manner. 

"There has been a misunderstanding," Mr Norrell announced. He stopt. His intention had been to explain that he and Childermass had not been entangled as Strange had assumed, but now, he realized, they were. 

He frowned.

Strange took a few sips of coffee and seemed to rouse himself a little. "What sort of misunderstanding?" he asked.

Uncertain where to begin, Mr Norrell started with his originally-intended statement. He said, "You made an incorrect assumption about Childermass and myself."

"You are not together?" Strange frowned, no doubt thinking of the hand-holding.

"We are now, but we were not then."

Strange blinked. "Oh. So when we almost - "

"I was not being as unfaithful as you suppose," said Mr Norrell.

Strange looked into his coffee-cup. "I see," he said quietly. "You will forgive me if I ask you what the purpose of telling me is. To regain your honour? That is reasonable, I suppose, but -"

"Do you still as you felt then?" asked Mr Norrell in a rush. "The things you said - I had the impression that perhaps you had some fondness for me."

Strange looked up and smiled his self-mocking smile. "It is very contrary of me, is it not? Went spent as many years fighting as working together, and it is only now that they develop. Of course I could not have acted upon them before in any case - I was a married man..."

"Oh!" said Mr Norrell, suddenly embarrassed. For he had quite forgotten Mrs Strange.

"Then you are not at liberty in any case."

Strange shrugged. "As to that, I do not think Arabella would object for the present, considering our circumstances. I would certainly want her to find what comfort she could in my absence, for it is likely to be a long one. It is not that which stopt me."

"Oh," said Mr Norrell again. 

"But it does not matter," said Strange with a sigh. "I seem to have missed my chance. Perhaps I should accept defeat more graciously - I had been avoiding you - "

"I had noticed," said Mr Norrell.

Strange looked at him and smiled again, rather tiredly. "I am sorry, sir. I will not do so any longer. I shall go and tell Childermass that the best man won and that will be the end of it."

"But it does not have to be," said Mr Norrell, not without some exasperation. "I have been trying to work my way around to telling you. I am, er - that is to say, I do in fact have an arrangement with Childermass, but I confessed to him the depth of my feeling for you, and he said that there was no need for me to chuse between two sorts of happiness."

Strange looked up sharply. "What?" 

"Yes, that was my initial reaction as well." Mr Norrell shrugged. "It is most unrespectable, of course, but then for me to carry on with my former servant - my male former servant - is hardly the most respectable thing I have done in my lifetime, and there is no one else here to see us, and - "

"Depth of feeling," said Strange. "You said depth of feeling."

Mr Norrell, somewhat embarrassed, nodded.

"I had supposed that for you this was a recent development, from loneliness," said Strange. 

"Because yours is?" asked Mr Norrell quietly.

Strange looked away. "Recent, yes, but I do not think it is from loneliness. We are...two halves of a whole, you see. Can you not feel it?"

"Yes," said Mr Norrell. "I have for a long time."

"For how long?" asked Strange. His voice was almost a whisper; he seemed to be only half-aware of his own words.

Mr Norrell took up a spoon and began turning it, watching it catch and reflect the candlelight. "Since the day you left, I think."

"Oh," said Strange.

There was a long silence. Then Strange said, "That certainly explains a good deal about your behavior afterwards."

Mr Norrell winced. "It seemed quite justified at the time. You seemed the greatest threat to English magic in existence. I thought you would ruin everything. You must admit that after a fashion you did." He waved around them to indicate the Darkness, which was, after all, entirely Strange's doing. 

Strange shrugged. "Oh, certainly, I removed your framework, but then I still think that it needed to be torn down. We cannot keep magic for ourselves, Mr Norrell. It would never propagate."

"But we cannot go about summoning fairies with no regard for safety, either," Mr Norrell said.

"If you had shewn me the books..."

"I have shewn you the books now." Mr Norrell put the spoon down with a clatter. "I have been trying to mend my errors, have I not?"

Strange laughed. "Look at us!" he said. "I don't think it has been quite long enough for us to be having a lover's quarrel."

Mr Norrell's posture relaxed, and he sighed. "I suppose not. And now that we have got through the tedious business of confessions, what are we to do?"

Strange pushed aside his coffee cup and stood up. He took Mr Norrell's hand and pulled him upright also.

"May I?" he asked.

"I feel that you robbed me of it last time," said Mr Norrell, his stomach once again feeling peculiarly queasy.

Strange swept Mr Norrell into his arms and kissed him. It was _quite_  unlike being kissed by Childermass; it lacked the strange sense of familiarity. Instead it was thrilling, and occasioned a feeling which should have been fear but was not quite. He had imagined doing this a good many times, but none of them compared to the reality of Strange's soft hair between his fingers and the feeling of him smiling against Mr Norrell's lips.

He thought that he could not decide which he preferred, and would have to conduct a number of tests to decide.   
  
"Are you satisfied with that as a first order of business?" asked Strange, his smile still smile pulling up at the corners of his mouth as if without his conscious knowledge.

"Yes," said Mr Norrell, with only a very slight squeak in his voice.

 

Later in the week, Mr Norrell had chanced to leave the library to make tea to fortify the three of them for their studies. When he returned, he heard voices murmuring, which he at first thought nothing of. It was natural for them to converse while he was gone.

But then he caught his own name, and, sitting the tea-tray quietly down, listened.

" - best not find you are as inconsistent in this as you are in other things," Childermass was saying.

"You think me insincere?"

"I do not know what to think. But he takes things _seriously_."

A soft laugh from Strange. "I know. And I would never toy with his heart, if that is your concern. I am quite serious about it, myself."

"Good," said Childermass. "And you do not object to the arrangement?"

"To sharing him with you, you mean?"

"Indeed."

Strange said in an ironic tone, "By no means. He is your husband, after all."

Mr Norrell had to work very hard to suppress his out noise of disbelief and mild outrage. 'Of all the ridiculous things!' he thought.

"A fine time for you to be thinking of it," said Childermass, "After you nearly ruined it the first time."

"I didn't mean to!" protested Strange, and there was a hint of amusement in his voice that suggested to Mr Norrell that this conversation was perhaps not so serious as he had supposed.

"Well, you did," said Childermass. "But I believe we have worked it out now. All of us."

A long pause from Strange. Mr Norrell did not know what it signified. "Yes," he finally said, "I believe we have."

He hoped matters would be easier between them after that.

 

Mr Norrell now felt that nothing was needed to complete his happiness. At least, at first he felt that. But Strange and Childermass still fell to arguing more frequently than he could have wished. It reminded him most unpleasantly of Mr Lascelles and Childermass. And the result of that had been unspeakable. If he was made to chuse between Strange and Childermass, he did not think he would survive it.

To be more precise it was not that their quarrels that distressed them. It was the odd tension in the air when they did it. It was different than it had been a few weeks ago, but Mr Norrell was no great judge of other men's hearts and he could not tell what it meant. He had a horrible suspicion that they were reaching some sort of boiling point.

This suspicion was reinforced when Strange asked Childermass to shew him his cards at last. Mr Norrell had hoped he had forgotten about it after their adventure with the Naiad, but it seemed he had only been biding his time.

"You did agree to a display," he said to Childermass.

Childermass looked doubtful. "I believe you asked for one and I said that I might indulge you, not that I certainly would."

"Ah, but this is your opportunity to teach Mr Norrell and myself something!" Strange said.

"Implying that I have not already done so?"

"But this is your area of expertise. It is not the same. Neither of us know a thing about it. You will have the floor completely to yourself."

"And why do you assume I should want to teach you? And why do you assume Mr Norrell wants to learn, in any case?" Childermass leaned back against the sopha.

Mr Norrell interrupted. "I have no particular desire to learn," he said. "I am quite content. 

Strange frowned. "But I am not. Come, just one."

Mr Norrell held his breath. But Childermass shrugged and leaned forward to the little table in front of the sopha.

"You must ask a question," he said.

"Can you not read my fortune as a whole?"

"I could, but I do not wish to. Ask a question."

Strange glanced back at Mr Norrell and then at Childermass, and a smile crept onto his face. "Will I be lucky in love?" he said.

"Ha!" said Childermass. "Very well." He took the cards out of his pocket and began to shuffle the deck. He laid out just five cards, though Mr Norrell had often seen him use ten.

"Does the number of cards you use determine the meaning?" asked Strange.

"The spread helps me find the answer to your question," said Childermass. "I am using five because your question is less complex than some others. But a small spread can be just as effective as a large one. It is a question of detail."

Strange nodded.

Childermass began to turn the cards over. Mr Norrell's French was not excellent, but he recognized the titles: Two of Swords, Page of Cups, Eight of Batons, Five of Batons, and Three of Cups.

When he turned over this last, his eyebrows raised and he made a sound compounded of half amusement and half curiosity.

"Well," he said, "The news is good if you will follow the advice."

"Ah, advice and all," said Strange solemnly. "What am I to do? What is the reading?"

"You are - or were - keeping a truth from your intended," said Childermass. "Your emotions are blocked - to yourself or others. You must accept the truth and follow your heart. Quick and decisive action is required to resolve your dilemma. All will be will in the end, although there will be quarrels along the way."

Strange looked most peculiar as this description unfolded; his eyes were wide and he was a little pale. But he recovered himself quickly enough. 

"There could hardly not be quarrels," he said, "Given our respective natures. Well! That was most educational, Mr Childermass. Thank you." 

Childermass gave a mocking little half-bow where he sat. "The cards often reveal truths we would rather have hidden. I hope you did not find it too distressing."

"Oh, no!" Strange laughed, although it was a little strained, to Mr Norrell's ears. "A magician does not fear the truth, after all."

"Does he not," said Childermass dryly.

"Indeed. Isn't magic about finding the truth?"

"Magic is about many things, Mr Strange." Childermass gathered his cards up and stowed them back in his pocket. "But certainly the Cards of Marseilles are intended to shew what is really there, rather than what we wish to see."

"They are certainly very perceptive," said Strange thoughtfully. He and Childermass looked at each other and, it seemed to Mr Norrell, did not look away for a long time.

 

In their Faerie wanderings, they had stumbled into a kingdom of goblins. This was not on Dr Pale's map, and so they supposed that it must be newly-established. They decided to survey it so as to be able to accurately put it onto their own map.

Mr Norrell was somewhat doubtful. "Supposing the goblins do not want us to survey their territory?"

"We will do it quietly, and in a stealthy fashion."

Mr Norrell was not the most graceful of men and had serious doubts as to his ability to be stealthy. But they could not leave him behind, because he would only have been caught up by the spell and whooshed into the centre of their efforts, and he thought it very likely that he would make a great racket if that happened, whether from falling over of from yelling in his startlement.

So it was decided. Mr Norrell, whose note-taking was the most meticulous and whose handwriting was the best, was to record their impressions, while Childermass stood lookout and Strange forged the path ahead.

They proceeded into the perimeters of the kingdom. It was very small and ragged sort of kingdom. They saw many cross, badly-dressed goblins in the trees and the rivers, harvesting fruit or fishing and hissing at each other, but none of them seemed to pay any attention to the three magicians.

Soon they came to the castle itself. Like the rest of the kingdom it was very ill-kept, and Mr Norrell expressed the view that it would likely to be damp.

"I should have brought a cloak," he said. "Decidedly I should have."

"We shall not linger," said Childermass with a glance at Strange.

"No, indeed," promised Strange. "It does not look like a very exciting sort of place."

They crept through the castle gates. No alarm sounded; no guard came to rush them with fairy-hounds. The castle looked quite deserted, in fact. The garden was all grown up around the drawbridge, which looked not to have been raised in years.

"It reminds me of Lost-hope," said Strange. "It was a very rundown sort of place. At least there are fewer skeletons here."

Mr Norrell looked around nervously for hidden skeletons.

"I wonder what the name of this kingdom is?" Strange said, turning around. "Perhaps it is Absent-care. Or Badly-organized. Or - "

"It is the Kingdom of Sorrow-sighs," said a voice. 

The magicians turned around wildly, trying to find the source of the voice, but at that moment goblins converged out of every corner. Before he could so much as cast a spell, Mr Norrell had had iron rings clapped around his arms, and Strange only managed to push a few goblins away before he, too, was ensnared.

"To the dungeons with them," said the goblin who had spoken. Mr Norrell could not see Childermass. Had he been taken already? Had he escaped?

The other goblins, who, by the spears, seemed to be soldiers, poked them with the butt of their weapons and marched them down a long, long set of stairs into a dark and noisome dungeon. 

It was most exceedingly damp. Strange and Mr Norrell were pushed without ceremony into a cell.

"What are you going to do to us?" cried Mr Norrell, as the barred door was slammed in front of them.

"Sell you, of course," said the goblin. "In these parts an English magician fetches a very good remuneration. Your hair will be used for divination and your liver for love-spells."

"Love-spells!" said Mr Norrell, with great scorn.

The goblin shrugged. "We are a small kingdom, and we need every thing we can get."

They were left alone. Mr Norrell sighed and leaned against the side of the cell. "I do not suppose that you can do very much magic in here, Mr Strange."

"No," said Mr Strange. "Apart from the iron - which is a significant consideration - there is the dampening field."

Mr Norrell knew precisely what he spoke of. The entire cell seemed to be carefully enchanted to prevent any other magic being cast. It was like being smothered under a thick, heavy, wet blanket.

"I am quite certain I shall have a cold," said Mr Norrell.

"If we survive for you to acquire one, I shall bring you tea myself," said Strange, grimly. "Where is Childermass?"

"I do not know. Do you suppose he escaped?"

"We may hope so."

The goblin came back a few minutes later. "Are you ready to begin?" he asked. 

"Begin what?"

"Well, the extraction, of course. First we shall pluck all your hair out, strand by strand - "

"Why?" asked Strange. "I would have thought that killing us first would be quicker."

"It is not so effective. Your magic will not linger if we kill you first."

"Will it not?" said Strange, apparently growing interested despite himself.

"I have heard that for spells which require unenchanted blood, the blood must be drained before death," volunteered Mr Norrell.

"Quite right," said the goblin. "Now, we will begin."

"But you cannot!" said Mr Norrell. He thought he had seen something in the shadows.

"Why?" The goblin frowned. "You are our prisoners."

Mr Norrell cast about for some excuse which he could give to the goblin. His powers of invention were not great, but happily, Strange interjected.

"Because we have a curse on us, and if you kill us, you will die yourself."

The goblin frowned. "That does not sound very convincing to me," he said.

"Come closer and you will see," said Strange, holding out a hand. "Up close it is quite visible. You have seen the Eternal Darkness; can you not believe that its effects extend to our own body?"

The goblin looked doubtful, but came closer.

Then there was a small explosion and he was on the floor, and Childermass was there, stepping out of the shadows to pick the keys up from the goblin's unconscious body. "Come," he said, "We must get out soon, before they realize. You will all have to hide in the shadows."

"I know the spell," said Mr Norrell. He was not fond of it, but he had read the form and he had tried it once to be sure it worked.

"I can intuit it," said Strange, "Only shew me."

The castle was now alive with goblins. Fortunately, it was also very dark, and with great care, they managed to stick to the edges. It seemed to take an age of creeping with discovery threatening them each moment, but then they were back outside and hurrying away toward Hurtfew.

"How did you do that?" Mr Norrell asked, panting as they ran through the kingdom.

"Later, when we are safe," said Childermass, tugging him forward.

At last they came back to the house and hurried inside to the library, which was the safest room in the house. They collapsed panting on various sophas and chairs.

"As to your question," said Childermass, "I hid myself in the shadows and followed you. I thought I had better wait for a moment when your captor was distracted. Otherwise he might have felt the attack coming."

When they had recovered a little, Childermass came over and knelt beside Mr Norrell, looking him up and down as if to reassure himself Mr Norrell was whole and safe. "You are safe?" he asked very quietly, his hands careful on Mr Norrell's shoulders. 

"I believe I will have a cold," said Mr Norrell.

Childermass smiled a little and took his hands and kissed them. He stood up and then turned to Mr Strange. His face took on a strange expression, something Mr Norrell could not quite place. It was half concern and half something else.

"And you?" he said, nodding.

"Oh! you must not worry about me," said Strange with an uncomfortable smile. "I am nothing like so delicate in constitution as Mr Norrell."

"No," said Childermass, "But you are just as prone to getting into trouble."

Strange's smile warmed a little. "I cannot deny that," he said quietly. "I appreciated the rescue."

Again their gazes lingered. There was a tension in the air, the same sort as Mr Norrell often observed when they were fighting. But they did not seem unfriendly now. It did not, precisely, even seem uncomfortable.

Childermass looked Strange up and down, the same way he had Mr Norrell. Mr Norrell thought he looked as though he would like to have reached out, but he did not.

"Well," said Childermass at last, "I believe that was quite enough adventure for one day."

 

It was two weeks later, Childermass was arguing with Strange again.

"Fairy-commoners are not necessarily better targets for summoning than fairy-kings," he said. "More to the point, they are likely to be under too many other pressures. Some rich, idle gentleman fairy might be fine - "

"Oh, indeed!" said Strange, raising an eyebrow and crossing his arms. "As opposed to the poor laboring fairy?"

"Until you have labored, you have no idea how bad-tempered it can make you," said Childermass. "Besides, fairies must need bread for their families like any other."

"But a magician's contract - "

"Benefits them very little, if they need food and not a reputation."

Strange opened his mouth to reply, but Mr Norrell could stand no more of this and interrupted.

"I have something which needs to be said," he said. "And I would appreciate it if you would listen to me."

Strange and Childermass both looked at him and nodded.

"I appreciate that you do not care much for each other's company," he began, "And I do not wish to dictate your feelings. However, I am - " he stopt and blushed, and continued, "I am very fond of both of you and this continuous arguing is very disruptive. Please. At least conduct a greater part of it where I cannot hear. I find it very distressing to see you at each other's throats like a pair of dogs when I rely on both of you." He took a deep breath. "That is all."

Strange and Childermass looked at each other.

"He hasn't realized," said Strange.

"Of course he hasn't," said Childermass. "I could have told you he would not."

"What haven't I realized?" demanded Norrell.

"You must forgive us, sir, for the arguing," said Childermass, with a little quirk of his mouth. "At first it was somewhat obliquely over you - "

"Me!" Norrell spluttered. 

"But I rather think we have moved past that into arguing for the sake of it."

"Oh, we certainly have," said Strange, raising an eyebrow at Childermass. 

"For the sake of it?"

"You bicker with Mr Strange over magical policy very often," pointed out Childermass. "Do you mean to tell me you do not enjoy it?"

"Well, yes," said Norrell, rather flustered, "But you two are quite different. You are very challenging with each other."

"Oh yes," said Strange, "That is Childermass's manner." He turned towards him. "You will not accept any man as your master! Except Norrell." He laughed. "And I rather feel that I should have understood the significance of that earlier and without my wife's prompting."

"Indeed, you should have," said Childermass, crossing his arms. "But no man is my master now."

Strange reached over, grabbed Childermass by his coat, and kissed him.

Norrell's mouth dropped open. He could not decide whether to protest that they pay attention to him or to watch as closely as he could - it was decidedly unrespectable, but then, his current living arrangements were very unrespectable, and who was there to know. Besides, it was...instructive. He felt he ought to be taking notes. Strange's hands were twisted in Childermass's jacket, pulling him close. There was a combative air to it, but neither seemed to be angry, precisely. As with their arguments, it seemed to be more of a challenge.

They released each other, breathing very fast. 

"You have no idea how long I've been waiting to do that," said Strange, a grin spreading over his face.

"Oh, aye?" said Childermass, raising an eyebrow. "Why didn't you do it earlier, then?"

"I had the notion that you might bite me."

"No promises that I won't," said Childermass.

This caused Strange's grin to widen. "Well, I would call the preliminary experiment a success," he said.

Norrell had in the meantime had gone from uncertain to entirely mystified. He could not decide whether to be pleased at this development or upset over the apparently needless worry, and furthermore, he could not decide when the worry became needless. He was unsure whether he had misread the situation entirely, or whether something had simply changed when he had not been looking.

"You are not angry with each other?" he asked.

Strange laughed; he seemed quite giddy with the results of his so-called experiment. "I do believe Childermass may be permanently slightly annoyed with me, but not to the detriment of our relationship."

Childermass smiled his long, sly, sideways smile.

"Oh," said Mr Norrell.

 

In the end, the new arrangement made very little difference in their lives, save that they often saved a effort on laundry by sleeping in the same bed. Strange's bed was deemed to be the best for this, as it was made to accommodate two people already, unlike either Childermass or Norrell's, and could thus be stretched to fit three if they were very friendly. It did, however, have the disadvantage of being all over books, toast-crumbs, pieces of paper, and the general detritus of a scholar who was often struck by inspiration in bed. 

This, of course, caused quarrels. Mr Norrell was a very tidy person, and could not abide such clutter. Childermass had always lived a very Spartan lifestyle, and shared Mr Norrell's disapproval. Strange pointed out that it was his bed, to which Childermass retorted that he had consented to share it with his partners in magic, and if he did not chuse to keep it in a state suitable for this, then Mr Norrell and Childermass would go elsewhere.

Strange's face took on a very sulky character upon being presented with this ultimatum. However, he kept the bed clean.

In many other respects, they continued the same. Childermass and Strange continued to have deeply objectionable views upon magic which Mr Norrell felt he had to correct immediately; they, in turn, found both each other's and his opinions equally bad. Together, they came to an understanding of a great many other things which they otherwise would have never managed to discover on their own. 

As he was fetching a book in order to construct a retort to Childermass and Strange's entirely wrongheaded ideas about Martin Pale, their disagreement continuing behind him, Mr Norrell reflected that it was nice to have harmony in his household again.

Eternal Darkness and Perpetual Solitude, he thought, were not so bad when one was not alone.

 


End file.
